Impavid
by Anne O'Brien
Summary: A series of one-shots based on prompts from sapphireswimming's Apricity. Up now: Card
1. Echo

**Impavid**

_fearless; undaunted_

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**This is a one-shot based on a prompt from sapphireswimming's _Apricity_. Look up that story for more information. Enjoy.**

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**Echo**

_"How cruelly sweet are the echoes that start, When memory plays an old tune on the heart."  
-Eliza Cook_

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Sam and Dean had been meaning to get around to investigating what was going on in Amity Park for a while now, but when they got there they didn't expect what they saw. The whole town was demolished; buildings were torn to pieces, halves of them lying on the paved roads as if they had been there for ages. Businesses and houses lay in ashes and in rubble. When they stepped anywhere, the movement sent up dust around their feet.

They had brought weapons just in case, ready as they always were, but they lowered their pistols and their rock-salt shotguns dismally. There was not a trace of life in Amity Park. Whatever had ravaged the place had done its job.

When they had scoured what seemed like the fifth building and Dean had had multiple violent coughing fits, Dean spoke up.

"I don't think there's anything here, Sammy. The place is wasted," he kicked a piece of wood at his feet for effect and it crumbled to pieces when he came in contact with it. Sam didn't look convinced. He glanced to the welkin, which they could see because the roof and what looked like the second floor were destroyed. The sky was gray and cheerless, the sun no longer adorning it and lighting up this part of the world. The whole town showed signs of being hopelessly abandoned. After whatever had happened here, no one had bothered to build it back up or even try to bring the town back to life. It would be a futile effort anyway. Ectoplasmic remains were everywhere, and no human would ever live here again.

"I don't know Dean...I feel like there's _something_ here. I can feel it," he whispered the last part, taking a huge breath of air, but quickly letting it out because his lungs were tickled and he almost began to cough.

"Don't tell me this is another one those 'psychic mojo' things, Sammy. You know that stuff cree-"

"Hey, what's that near your foot?" Sam interrupted Dean, who, in the middle of his sentence, still had his mouth open. He moved to the side so that Sam could pick up whatever the object he had seen was. Sam gazed at it intently, brushing dust off of it. It was a picture, the glass cracked in the corner and the frame was broken in half, but the picture itself had survived.

"What is it?" Dean asked, standing behind his younger brother.

"A picture."

"Of?"

"I don't know," Sam admitted. "A family?"

That it was. The man in the picture was large and fat, but he smiled dumbly and had his arm around his wife, who was smaller and skinnier. They both wore jumpsuits, the man's orange and the woman's teal. Their daughter and son sat in chairs below them. The daughter, who was the elder of the two sat up straight in her chair, smiling professionally. She had long red hair that was held back by a headband of the same color as her mother's jumpsuit. The boy to her left was more comfortable looking, but still smiling. He looked mischievous. He had that glint in his bright blue eyes. They looked happy to be together, and Sam's heart longed for the feeling. He was yanked out his aching stupor by his brother, who pulled him down to the ground.

"What?" Sam laid the picture aside, but set it down gently as to not break the glass any further. Or the small feeling of family he got from it.

"A door. Looks like this place isn't all dust and death, Sammy," Dean was elated that they had actually found something interesting. He didn't feel the same way about the picture as Sam did, and he found it quite boring that they had discovered a simple picture. Dean craved something riveting. Something that would make his pulse bounce.

After moving some debris, the brothers had in fact discovered a door. A large metal one at that. It was concealed under the floorboards of the old building that had been here before, but whatever had destroyed this place hadn't spared the floor, so that left the door exposed under some pieces of furniture and other unidentifiable items.

Dean read the name. "'FentonWorks'. Wonder what that means."

Sam pulled out a small notebook from his jacket pocket. "Actually...FentonWorks is the name of a couple of scientists' house. Jack and Maddie Fenton. They had been pretty prominent in the community as, get this, ghost hunters."

"Were they _hunter _hunters?" Dean emphasized the first _hunter_ as to convey that he meant hunters such as themselves.

"Doubt it. They specialized in ectoplasmic weaponry, and that stuff has little to no effect on ghosts. Jack and Maddie Fenton were their names. They had two kids: Jazz and Danny."

"The ones in the picture?"

"Probably," Sam said, putting his notebook back in his pocket, he helped Dean turn the large wheel that was on it. They grunted against the pressure of the long since opened door, but after a few minutes of straining and pulling open the heavy door, they were staring down into a square shaped hole of darkness. Dean pulled out his flashlight and shined it down into the hole, showing dust caked everything down there too. However, there was a floor that looked sturdy enough about seven feet below.

"What I would do for a surgical mask right now," Dean muttered as he dropped into the hole first. Sam followed soon after and the both of them started coughing at the sudden storm of dust that encompassed them.

"Where are we?" Sam asked incredulously, shining his own flashlight at his surroundings.

"Looks like a lab. The Fentons' I'd guess," Dean was standing at the mouth of a large portal, which took up the majority of the far wall. The doors on it were obliterated, and hung away from it in dangerously splintered pieces. But you could clearly see the inside, and it looked about as good as the town itself. It was pitch black in there, but when a flashlight's revealing beam was thrown upon it, the innards were uncovered. It was technologically advanced, but the beauty of it was long gone, wires hanging from the top and holes all throughout the circuitry. Dean made to step inside, but Sam grabbed his arm.

"I wouldn't do that Dean. Looks bad. Like something terrible happened in there," Sam warned his brother, and at Sam's horrified look, he took heed.

"What do you think happened to this place, Sammy?" Dean asked, returning his attention to the lab behind them.

"Down here? I don't think anything happened. I mean, look. It's not devastated at all, except for the hole in the wall over there. It almost looks calm."

"Well, I think it's creepy as hell- Did you see that?" Dean had his pistol up in an instant. He had shined his flashlight on the wall to his right and had seen something move in the darkness.

"What?" Sam joined him in his stance, holding his flashlight as steady as his aim at the spot that Dean was facing.

"Something shimmered over there."

Sam looked. When he held his flashlight over a certain spot, he could see something. It flickered, but it was clearly a human shaped _thing_. It came toward them, and Dean steadied his aim even more and yelled, "Stop right there!" but the thing did nothing, it just walked right through them. Sam and Dean both whirled around, and stared at the being, if you could call it that. It seemed to be walking toward the portal, and as it got closer, it began to become more visible.

"I think it's a boy, Dean," Sam lowered his gun.

"Yeah, a ghost boy. Watch it turn around and try to bite our faces off," Dean hissed, keeping his gun trained on the back of the boy's head.

"No, Dean. I don't think it's a ghost. Watch," and Dean did watch, but he didn't lower his gun.

The boy solidified even more, and ebony hair became visible. As did a slender body. He turned to look at the wall beside the portal, and the brothers could see his face. He had bright blue eyes, high cheekbones, and a huge smile. He was wearing a white and black jumpsuit.

"I think that's Danny Fenton," said Sam, placing a hand of Dean's shoulder.

"But Danny Fenton is supposed to be dead Sammy. Let's just gank this sucker and get outta here." Dean shivered and held his gaze.

"I don't think we can kill it any more than it already is. Let's watch it."

The boy spoke, but it was echoes, and the brothers could barely understand it. "You know what? You're right, Sam. Who knows what kind of awesome, super cool things exist on the other side of that portal?"

"Did that thing just say your name?" Dean asked Sam.

"He's not talking about me."

The boy zipped up his jumpsuit and stepped into the portal, which did nothing as he pressed something on the inside. He began to scream moments later, a wretched, bone-chilling scream that sent chills down both of the brothers' spines. Danny arched on the floor of the portal, his body shriveling in the intense electricity. Sam and Dean flinched, but stayed true to their objective.

When Danny finally stopped screeching, the brother's breathed heavily. The lab returned to it's normal state, as if it had never changed.

"What just happened?" Dean asked his brother. Dean's eyes were wide in fear. He had never seen or experienced anything of that magnitude.

"We just witnessed the death of Danny Fenton."


	2. Night

**Impavid**

_fearless; undaunted_

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**This is a one-shot based on a prompt from sapphireswimming's _Apricity_. See that story for more information. Enjoy. **

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**Night**

_"Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night."  
-Edgar Allan Poe, _Eleonora

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For most, daily life ends when the sun touches the west horizon. But for some, that is when life begins. The former is true for a small family in Amity Park, Illinois. A single-mother and her son go to bed every night at seven, for the boy has school and the mother work. But every night, the boy sits on his terrace and watches what he believes are fireworks.

His eyes are wide as he watches the colors explode above him, the darkness around the world only amplifying his wonderment. He'll whisper things like "Woah." and "Wow." and continue to gaze up at the sky. The fireworks are always two colors, he noticed. Pink and green. Some nights there's blue and green, or maybe green and green. The nights when green on green appear are his favorites. He feels like those are the nights when he can almost see the stars floating above him move and dance in an eternal waltz, in tandem with the beat of the fireworks.

If you watched the "fireworks" long enough, you would begin to see that hundreds off feet away on either side are two figures. One of them varies, it could be the one with flaming blue hair held high in a ponytail, or possibly the one that glows blue and wears a dark beanie. The other one, however, is always the same. He is a boy with white hair and green eyes, the same color as his fireworks. He grins fiercely and yells banter at his opponent, and when he is finished with his work, he'll breathe heavily, pull out a soup can, and suck the opponent up. If it remains conscious.

But, of course, the boy never saw this. He was already fast asleep.


	3. Paralyze

**Impavid**

_fearless; undaunted_

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**This is a one-shot based on a prompt from sapphireswimming's _Apricity_. Look that story up for more information. Enjoy.**

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**Paralyze**

_"Some people are walking around with full use of their bodies and they're more paralyzed than I am."  
-Christopher Reeve_

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No one expected anything bad to ever happen to Tucker Foley. I mean, he was friends with the protector of Amity Park, and Sam Manson for that matter, and he had been on the front lines of every ghost invasion ever set, he had survived Mrs. Fenton's cooking, but he always came out fine. He had a few scrapes and cuts here and there, a few bloody noses at the worst, but he had never been mortally wounded. Danny wouldn't allow it. When Tucker came out the fray, not close to death, but injured beyond repair, everyone was devastated. Most of all the one who had sworn to keep him safe.

Amity Park wasn't a big city, but it was large enough to have its own skyscraper here and there, and it had too many streets for you to walk down in a day. It wasn't huge, not like New York or even Chicago, which wasn't too far away. It had its own homeless community and its own muggers. Some people even thought a mob was forming downtown, but nothing too drastic had ever happened to spark the public's interest for human safety. Well, nothing caused _by_ the humans, that is. So when Tucker was injured on a normal day, when only a couple people were around to see, it was greeted with looks of surprise and horror.

Danny Fenton, Sam Manson, and Tucker Foley were three of the closet knit groups of friends in the entire town. They had seen and done so many things together, that if they ever broke apart, they couldn't stay that way for long. Fate would have it that these three became best friends. A Goth, an everyday superhero, and a techno geek were not normally thought to hang out together, but they had defied the odds. They had been best friends since 1st grade, when Sam first came to school, and she spilled her grape juice on Danny's lap and Tucker had rushed to the rescue. She had apologized so many times that young Danny just smiled and told her it was alright and she could just let it go. She had run away from the scene, her black pigtails bobbing. Tucker mentioned that he thought she was cute. Some thought it was the origin story of Tucker's flirtatiousness.

They liked to spend their free time at the Nasty Burger, the local teenager hangout. It sold flat coke, greasy fries, and burgers with way too much ketchup, but it still got the most business than any operation around. That could be attributed to the fact that it was barely five blocks away from the high school, Casper High, and children did not want to walk far after school just to chow down.

They left around five, like they did every day, not wanting to deal with the dinner crowd. They walked the same way to Danny's house every day. Through a couple alleys, down some streets and voila!, the huge neon FentonWorks sign was welcoming you in to the funhouse. But today was different. Not different in any foreseeable way, but the trio would come to know of its difference shortly.

They were laughing and going on about how Dash had tripped and fallen today during lunch because he stepped in some deliberately placed sloppy Joe, and none of them saw or heard the mugger appear in front of their exit to the alley a few blocks away from Danny's house. When he showed, none of the three were frightened, they knew Danny would protect them. Not all heroes succeed every time, however.

"Gimme all the money in your wallets boys," the mugger demanded, holding a knife out. "And you, little lady; that necklace," he motioned to the choker around Sam's neck with the knife, and her hand flew to her neck. She frowned.

"Uh, no way, cre-"

"Sam. Calm down," Danny ordered with a deadly calm voice. Danny reached down to his pocket with his hand slowly, never taking his eyes off the mugger. Tucker was busy taking his own wallet out, but had to take his PDA out of his pocket first. That would be his mortal folly. As he removed the metallic PDA from his pocket, the mugger thought it to be a weapon of some sort, and fired, leaving his victims in the dust. He was away before anyone could react.

Tucker fell to the ground without a sound.

"Tucker!" Sam cried, and she and Danny knelt down next to him, Danny gripping his hand tightly. Danny's jawline was hard as stone, and Sam was on the verge of tears.

"Calm down guys. It doesn't really hurt," Tucker reassured his friends, but his voice was shaky and it did nothing of the sort. If anything, it made them more uncertain. There was a bullet hole a few inches above his groin, and blood was flowering out from the wound on his mustard-yellow shirt.

"Hey, Tuck," Danny spoke, his voice still calm. "Do I need to fly you to the hospital?" Tucker left hand, the one Danny was not holding, was fidgeting at his side. Tucker didn't seem to notice, but Danny became a little more frantic.

"Tucker?" he asked again. Tucker snapped to attention.

"Oh, I don't think so. But hey, could you help me up? I can't feel my legs," Danny's heart dropped. He looked up to Sam, who's face was red. Her mouth dropped and she began to bawl. How no one noticed this from outside the alley is absolutely insane.

"Oh, Tucker..." Danny moaned.

"What?" he looked up at Danny. His eyes wide and fearful. He looked at Danny with great hope that Danny would tell him that he was going to be alright, that he was not in any real danger. But then Danny would be lying. Danny's eyes glassed over as he changed to his alter-ego. They remained that way as he picked Tucker up. Tucker's legs stayed limp next to Danny's arms.

"Sam," Danny asked. "Please go get my parents and call Mr. and Mrs. Foley," without another word, Danny took off and flew Tucker to the hospital where they could deliver the news:

Tucker would never walk again.


	4. Sacrifice

**Impavid**

_fearless; undaunted_

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**This is a one-shot based on a prompt from sapphireswimming's _Apricity_. Look that story up for more information. Enjoy.  
**

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**Okay, I have to say this here...I you've looked at sapphireswimming's sentence-stories, you would see that there are quite a few Supernatural crossovers. I love the show and I have idea upon idea upon idea upon idea (X20 billion [NOT a hyperbole]) for those, but I don't want to use them all up! I thought I'd share this with you guys. Just read now. :)**

**Hey! "Carry On My Wayward Son" just came on. If ya know what I mean. *waggles eyebrows***

**Sorry I haven't updated. My brother is back at home for a month or so...he's really, really sick. Got the mono. His spleen is close to rupturing. If it does, he dies. And my grandpa is till recovering from cancer. I think you should understand the slowness of my updates now. I'm also supposed to be betareading a story, but I can't get around to it for the same reasons and more. I feel bad. ):**

**I'M DONE. ;3**

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**Sacrifice**

_"Sacrifice is a part of life. It's supposed to be. It's not something to regret. It's something to aspire to."  
-Mitch Albom "_The Five People You Meet in Heaven"

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Danny didn't ever hurt anyone. Why would this happen to him? Thoughts like these ran through my mind as he stood in front of me protectively. His fingertips brushed my elbows so lightly, I could barely feel it. His head was not two inches in front of my own, and I could smell him. He smelled like Old Spice shampoo. My favorite, and that's why he uses it. I breathed in the scent to calm myself, but it did no good. My heart refused to slow down.

"Daniel Fenton, alias Danny Phantom, stand down, we are here to capture you without any harm to you or your girlfriend," Operative O ordered. Danny laughed, keeping up the cocky attitude, but never letting our contact end. He breathed heavily, and I knew he was scared. Not for him, but for me. He was afraid that the Jerks in White were going to hurt me.

"You guys really haven't figured me out yet, have you? I'm not gonna come willingly. And you won't lay a hand on Sam," Danny told them, letting a breath out when his sentence was finished. I breathed myself, and I thought I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye. I shifted, moving my hands from both of Danny's shoulders to just his right. He noticed and looked to his right, but there was nothing there. I must be seeing things. Stress making me delirious.

There were Guys in White all around us, in a large circle. They were all armed with net guns and probably some stun guns too. They wouldn't be too queasy to use either of them on me. We were walking home in the middle of the park, the part that is heavily wooded and the only thing to keep you on track is a worn dirt path. All around us, the greenery clashed with the suits of the agents surrounding us. They were all calm, and I was slightly unnerved by their confidence. They had something that they were keeping from us. Something that they hadn't had before. It might be able to finally get them their prize trophy: Danny Phantom.

"Very well, Daniel Fenton. You leave us no choice," the Operative motioned to someone behind us, and the operatives shifted in the circle. One appeared in the middle of the group, dressed like the others, but holding a large gun. He hefted it and fell with its weight, so I know it was heavy. Danny's heart rate increased. Something about the gun was making him nervous for the first time this evening.

It was profusely humongous, and it radiated green-ish light. There was a sulfuric smell coming from it and I fought the urge to hold my nose. I remembered that smell from somewhere. It was impossible to forget. The wind picked up and I was forced to breathe in more of the stench. Danny's own nose crinkled in disgust, and Operative O smiled evilly.

"Do you like the smell of the new weapon, Danny?" he cackled. "We created it just for you. This baby's powered by the pure energy from the asteroid you 'saved' the world from. One hit, and you're dead. 'Course, _a human taking that kind of energy..._And the best part: there's only enough power for one shot," Danny stopped breathing, and squeezed my arms to hard I thought I heard bones cracking. The Operative holding the gun came to a stop not five feet in front of us, and my breath hitched. He was just standing there, waiting for orders, and that was frightening. He was huge, almost as big as the gun in his hands, and what's worse, his eyes were concealed by dark wrap-around sunglasses.

Operative O made a motion to take the shot. The goon with the gun moved forward. Time slowed down.

Without thinking, I pushed Danny out of the way and took the hit. The last thing I saw was Danny's desperate face, pleading to take my place back.


	5. Brotherhood

**Impavid**

_fearless; undaunted_

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**This is a one-shot based on a prompt from sapphireswimming's _Apricity_. Look that story up for more information. Enjoy.  
So my brother's girlfriend is here. She is eating my mother's lasagna. I think she likes it. :)  
**

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**Brotherhood**

_"We must live together as brothers or perish together as fools."  
-Martin Luther King, Jr._

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Danny Fenton was always looked at as Jasmine Fenton's little brother. He was thought of that way, and he would continue to be at least until they were out of high school. He was compared to her, people said he looked like her (which was as far from the truth as you could get), and more. In the beginning, this bothered Danny. Living up to his sister was not the easiest thing. However, he began to let it off whenever a teacher would say something like, "Daniel, your sister was so much better. Why can't you be that way, too?".

One thing that had always badgered Danny though was his lack of a brother. A biological brother to do whatever he wanted to. Someone he could romp around with and play jokes on Jazz. When he was younger, he always dreamed of having one, but his mother always told him that it was impossible for him to have a blood brother. She had never went into specifics because she knew Danny would not understand, but now he knew that it was because she had become infertile after Danny was born. It was a devastating thing, knowing that you will never be able to have another child, but Maddie was incredibly with happy with the two she had.

Whenever Danny thought about having a brother, one name popped into his mind: Tucker. The closest thing he had had ever had to a brother was Tucker. They did everything together. He had been to Tucker's house so many times, he could walk it blindfolded. He knew Tucker's parents by name. Tucker was an only child, so Danny assumed that he enjoyed spending time with Danny as much as Danny with him.

He had been there when the accident happened, and he had been there for Danny ever since. Even when Danny wasn't there for him, Tucker always was. He would stand by his side and fight as bravely as Danny himself, and never give up, as much as he wanted to.

He was just like a brother, Danny would realize. While they were not related in any way other than their friendship, they were basically brothers in the simplest sense.

So even though Danny would always be without a blood-linked brother, he would always have Tucker, who would prove that you don't have to be related to have unfathomable brotherly love for one another.


	6. Stone

**Impavid**

_fearless; undaunted_

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**This is a one-shot based on prompt from sapphireswimming's _Apricity_. Look that story up for more information.**

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**I got a shoutout. I feel so special. *cuddles up in a soft blanket because I might as well live in frickin Antarctica for the love of God!* :)**

**This one ISN'T ANGSTY!**

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**Pebble**

_"Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night."  
-William Shakespeare _Romeo and Juliet

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_clink!_

_clink!_

_clink!_

Sam stirred, but did not wake.

_clink!_

"Stop it..." she mumbled, throwing her blankets over her head.

_clink!_

"UGH!" Sam groaned as she rose from her dark purple bed, her normally straight hair frizzled. Her eyes were red around the edges and they were bloodshot. Sleeping had taken it's toll on her. A look to kill adorned her face as she walked to the window on the other side of the room. The one that faced he road. Anyone could be out there, but right now, Sam had no reason to fear anything. She actually didn't care if it was someone to take her away.

_clink!_

A small stone hit the window right before she opened it. Sam unlocked the window and slammed away from the windowsill. Her kitten that she had just gotten today purred and rubbed up against her legs.

"Mel, please. Stay back, alright? I don't need you falling out of here," she gingerly picked up the cat and set her on the bed, where the cat curled up in a ball and began to purr once more.

Sam stuck her head out the window, a yell in her throat, but she hitched it when she saw her visitor.

"_'Tell me, daughter Juliet, How stands your dispositions to be married?_'," Sam almost burst into laughter. It was ten 'o clock at night and Danny Phantom was standing outside her house quoting Shakespeare. The wrong quotes, albeit, but close enough. One of his hands was in the air, the other over his heart. He spoke in a falsetto voice that did not belong to him.

Going on with it, Sam responded, making her voice as dramatic as she could. "Well, even though you just asked me to marry you, '_It is an honor that I dream not of_',"

"Oh okay- Wait what?" Danny choked. "I asked you to marry me?" Sam laughed and found herself nodding.

"Well, how about this?" Danny cleared his throat and spoke in a much deeper voice than normal. He held an imaginary skull in his hand. "'_To be or not to be, that is the question!_'" he looked up at Sam, awaiting approval and he got a snicker in response.

"Totally different play, Hamlet."

"Umm, I'm running out of options here...'_Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night._'."

"I like that one," Sam admitted, and she cleared her own throat. Danny was bowing.

"Thank you, thank you. Oh I adore roses, thank you!" he muttered, throwing kisses to non-existent fans.

"'_O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father refuse thy name, thou art thyself thou not a montague!_'," Sam quoted, _Romeo and Juliet _being one of her favorite works by Shakespeare.

"Okay, last one! This is all I got!" Danny warned, and Sam raised her eyebrows, laying her head in her hands. Her elbows rested on the windowsill.

Danny cleared his throat one last time and spoke. "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair?"

Sam couldn't hold it in anymore. She laughed so hard, Clockwork could probably hear her in the Ghost Zone. "'_Not today, dear Prince, today I do not dare.',_" she got out over her giggles. Danny grinned, his job done.

"Does that mean I can come up there, dear Juliet?" Danny asked. Sam nodded, her sides beginning to hurt. Danny sat on her windowsill. He let Sam calm down then brought her closer.

"Hey Sam?"

"Hmm?"

"Does this mean I can still marry you?"

Sam's laughter could be heard all throughout Amity Park.


	7. Sky

**Impavid**

_fearless; undaunted_

* * *

**This is a one-shot based on a prompt from from sapphirewimming's _Apricity_. Look that story up for more information.**

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**Okay, so I had to update last chapter's name. It was kind of supposed to be called "Stone", but I misnamed it. Sowwy. Its boo-boo is all better now.**

_**Guys. Read "The Fault in Our Stars" or be square. I'm reading "Looking for Alaska" right now, and OH JEEZ, JOHN GREEN! I love him so much. I wish that guy was my dad or something. No, he would be that World History teacher that I could show up at his house and he would give me cookies.**_**  
**

**This chapter is written in incredibly informal language. I wanted it seem as if Danny actually said it. Calm down. I know my grammar sucks.**

**Jared Padalecki is my lock screen. Are. You. Jealous?**

**Speaking of which. The first Supernatural convention held in the US was held in Nashville. TENNESSEE REPRESENT! PEACE!**

**Some of the topics here were inspired by the things from another one of sapphireswimming's one-shots "42". (Namely the Pariah part. I liked that.)**

**DFTBA**

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**Sky**

_"To infinity and beyond!"  
-Buzz Lightyear of Star Command_

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Who knew air could be such a beautiful thing? I don't mean the stuff that we breathe and- Well, I don't mean that necessarily, I mean like the _open_ air, the stuff that no one but the risk-takers like skydivers and bungee jumpers get to breathe. And me of course, but I guess I would fit into the "risk-taker" category.

I don't fly with the others. I take to the sky with the birds and stay up there. I drift and fall and swing and hold my arms out as if I've got nothing better to do. I do, and that's the worst part. But that's kind of the reason I come up here. To detox from all the stress that's been hammering on me. Sam jokes that that's why my hair is white. Pfft.

One time, I actually got pooped on. That was kind of the grossest thing I had ever experienced, above even that snot deal with Spectra. The offending bird was a crow not fifteen feet above me. I had trouble not shooting it down, but I convinced myself that the bird didn't need to be cooked. Some fortunate strike of lightning would do the job for me.

In reality, I come up here not only to get rid of stress -hey that's what flying does, wish you could experience it- but also to escape that which ails me: reality. Y'know, since all this crazy "ghost mumbo jumbo" began, I've been questioning a few things. I'm not getting philosophical or nothing on you, but I'm just gonna let you know a few things.

I wonder about what happens after death. You know? Like, I've seen the Ghost Zone. A billion times. Is that was life is afterwards? Is there no heaven or even hell? Or are the ghosts that have unfinished business stay in the Ghost Zone until they are finished? And that brings me to another point. What did these ghosts that I fight look like in their lifetimes? I know Skulker wasn't a mechanical man, and Ember certainly didn't have flaming hair, so what did they look like? Did their way of dying have something to do with their afterlife form? I've noticed that some of the ghosts look more human than others, Johnny 13, for example. Or Kitty. Spectra.

Oh jeez, so many questions so little time to answer them. If there are answers...

Is religion a failsafe for what people are choosing not to believe? I know Sam is from a Jewish background, and I think they believe in the afterlife. So does that mean that Sam's family thinks that having their butts kicked by me is their afterlife? Another thing, do the ghosts remember their lifetimes? They never mention it, so I would think that they don't. I can't really say that would be a bad thing. I wouldn't want to know what terrible things had happened in my lifetime if I was a ghost.

Is there a God? As in capital G- God? Is He one of the ghosts? He could be Clockwork. He's powerful. Or maybe it was Pariah. But I defeated him...Did I defeat God? That kind of makes me want to shiver. If Pariah was God, then I just destroyed a ton of people's god. I know that some people are incredibly intent on their spiritual life, and I just killed the one that rules over all them.

Speaking of which...that makes me think of my own religion. Do I even have one? I wouldn't say I'm an atheist, but I also don't believe in that Christian stuff. I guess what I believe is that there is a God, but he just doesn't care about us much. I would think that God would something as terrible as half-dying happen to me and Vlad if he cared.

I've never read the Bible. I've heard from some people that it's what saved them, made them better. I've also heard that it sends mixed messages. Love God, fear God, love him anyway. I don't know. I really don't have an opinion in all that stuff.

About Vlad and me, what happens to us when we die? Do we go into the Ghost Zone, or do we stay the same as are now? I mean, we're both half-dead right now, and if we died, we would keep some of that humanity, which would keep up half-dead once more. So would we stay the same? Would we go on to an afterlife, or be forced to live forever? Just the thought of immortality is intimidating. How Vlad can strive for that sickens me.

Crazy to think that all these things stemmed from just letting my thoughts leave the ground and become airborne.

* * *

**I have no idea what I just wrote.**


	8. Transparent

**Impavid**

_fearless; undaunted_

* * *

**This is a one-shot based on a prompt from sapphireswimming's _Apricity_. Look up that story for more information.**

* * *

**Transparent**

_"Telling the difference between transparent and invisible is an acquired skill. Until you've practiced, you can't make the choice between looking through and looking at."  
-David Whiteland_

_(Fans of Supernatural will notice a small quote-ish reference in this chapter. ;))_

* * *

Sleeping is a luxury that I greatly appreciate. I get it wherever I can. So clearly getting up would be much of a problem. Especially when no one actually does get me up. Actually, my father usually gets me up in the mornings, his large figure dominating my view when I open my eyes. It's usually warm in my room, but for some odd reason, it's cold this morning. As expected, there's a light coming from the hallway where all three of our rooms are, and I walk out there, still dressed in my pajamas. The hallway is similar to my room: empty and very cold. Almost shivering, I make my way to the kitchen downstairs, hopping on the linoleum because my feet are bare and like the rest of the house, chilling.

The kitchen is a godless wreck. My mother is an OCD maniac -_Danny your room looks like a pigsty!_- and her kitchen isn't one to ever be dirty. There's a mountain of dishes in the sink and the table in the middle is filthy. There's couple of large holes in the wall next to the pantry door, the crumbles of dry wall still six feet underneath them. All of the table chairs are not pushed in underneath the table.

"Mom _hates_ it when we do that. Why would she leave them out?" I slowly push them in myself, my fingers shaking, I'm so cold. I run up the carpeted stairs after that and not bothering to take a shower because the shower would be warm at first, but then wet hair would not help my bodily temperature. I dress in the norm: t-shirt, jeans, converse, except I threw the thickest jacket I had over my shoulders. It did absolutely nothing. I left it on anyway. Maybe I would warm up later.

I checked my parents' room. Nothing. They weren't in there. But the light was on. How...?

"Jazz!" I yelled as loud as I could, but the only response was the sound of my own voice reverberating throughout the walls of the house. I slowly opened the door to Jazz's room, feeling guilty for intruding on her privacy. The room was pitch black before, but the dim light from the hallway shed some of its grace onto my sister's serene face. I let out a pent-up breath. At least someone was here. I tiptoed to her bedside, and saw that her cheeks were marred with pockets of dreadful red. The same color lay around her eyes. She'd been crying. I touched her forehead lightly and resolved not to wake her up. Her face was dangerously hot, so I figured she must not be feeling well. As soon as my hand came into contact with her forehead, she shivered and turned onto her other side, no longer facing me. I took that as a indication to leave. So I did.

* * *

As much as I didn't want to, I did have to go to school that day. So I walked for once, trying to put off the torture for a little bit. Surprisingly, not a single ghost attacked. Not a one. Thus, I was left in peace to plug my earbuds in and listen to The Killers. The day was just as cold as it was in my house, so I was grateful that I left the jacket on my body. Even so, I wasn't warm. I was freezing, even more so outside. I soon flipped the thick hood up onto my messy locks and shoved my hands in my pockets, looking at the ground.

Apparently looking at the ground is a signal not to say anything to the person who is doing so, because no one I passed said anything to me, greeted me, or even gave me a sideways glance. I essentially thankful for this, because that meant that I didn't have to deal with any annoying ghosts nor equally as annoying people.

* * *

I was late, but it wasn't the first time and certainly not the last. I was the only student at my locker and relished in the fact that I managed to avoid Dash for first block. I tried to open the door to Mr. Lancer's classroom, but it was locked, no I knocked. Mr. Lancer came to answer it personally, and opened it. I slipped in, but he didn't look at me. Must have lost interest in my being late. No tardy today, Fenton.

"Hmm. No one's out there..." he muttered under his breath and returned to sit at his desk, shaking his head on the way there.

All of the students in m first block were busy at work, so I wasn't surprised when none of them look up at me as I walked by them. But when Sam didn't even look up at me, I began to worry. Tucker wasn't even here. His seat was empty, so I sat in it, on the right side of Sam.

She was staring straight ahead, her eyes not looking at anything, but looking _through_ it all. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. She'd been crying, too.

"Hey, Sam," I whispered to her, leaning over the aisle after a careful glance at Lancer. "You alright?"

No response.

"Sam?" I asked, still whispering but a bit louder.

No response. I placed a shaking hand on her shoulder, and she blinked. She shivered and looked in my direction, eyes wide. She didn't look at me, she looked through me. Like I wasn't even here. I checked just in case to see if I was invisible, but I was very tangible and I could see myself. Cross that off the list.

"Mr. Lancer?" I called to the overweight teacher at the front of the room. He didn't even look up.

I stood up. "Can no one hear me?!" I called loudly. Apparently no one could because no one answered.

But Sam became aware.

"Danny?" she whispered. I bent down in front of her desk. She could hear me?

"You can hear me?" I asked her. Her eyes were brimming with tears and confusion. I pleaded with her with my own, but I was starting to think that she couldn't even see me.

"No...I mean. What?" she whispered, burying her face in her hand, sniffling. "Now I'm going crazy. Hearing _dead_ people."

I shook my head and blinked rapidly.

"No! Sam, I'm not, no...! I'm not dead, I'm right here!" I told her as she rose from her desk and walked to Lancer's. I followed her, curious.

"Sam, I'm right here! You just can't see or...hear...me..." I trailed off. I looked down at myself. I _looked_ alive. My skin wasn't peeling nor was I any paler than normal. Other than the coldness that had been plaguing me all morning, I felt fine.

"Mr. Lancer?" sniff. "Can I go to the bathroom."

Lancer began to say no, but then looked at Sam, taking in her state. He nodded a small yes, then returned to his paperwork.

* * *

Dead or not, I felt like I shouldn't have followed Sam into the bathroom. Yet I couldn't stop myself. I needed to find a way to comfort her.

I found no resistance in leaving the classroom with her. I really was invisible, yet I could touch people and things. They couldn't hear me either.

She went straight to the sink and splashed hot water in her face, then stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her makeup was running, but she still looked beautiful. nd her breath on the mirror...Her breath. The mirror! I could write on the mirror in the breath from Sam, and she would definitely see it, I just need to get her to stay there long enough.

"This isn't going to work..." I muttered. Even so, I rushed to the sink and wrote 'Sam' in the condensation, my handwriting chicken scratch as always. The writing began to fade and drip as time passed, but Sam clearly noticed her name in the mirror because she turned around with a horrified expression.

"Who's there?" she asked. Turning back around and breathing again.

I laughed. "I just Swayze-d that mother! Yes!" I fist pumped. She noticed my writing, and now I have her attention.

"Danny" I wrote on the mirror. Her hands flew to her mouth, and she looked like she was about to faint. Tears welled up in her eyes.

"Really?" she whispered. "Is it really you?"

"Yes" I wrote in her breath. She started to sob, her breath coming out to fast and my next words dripping too fast.

"Don't cry, Sammy" she saw it anyway, and cried more.

"I'm fine" I told her through the mirror. She looked up.

"Was that you in the classroom? When I shivered? And the door?"

"Yes" I wrote.

"Am I dead, Sam?" I asked her in the mirror. She started to bawl again and nodded slowly, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. Now her face was covered in the black of her eyeliner and mascara. She looked like a demon, a beautiful, crying demon.

"Oh" I wrote. "How"

"Your parents," she whispered. "Your parents killed you. Don't wanna know the details. Don't think I can talk about it anyway." she could barely breath now, and I reached a hand out, pulling it back at the last moment.

"I'm sorry Sam" I wrote.

"If only you could hear me or even see me," I muttered, tears welling up in my own eyes.

"Oh Danny...Why are you sorry?"

I wrapped my arm around her convulsing shoulders, whispering one thing in her ear over and over, even though I know she couldn't hear me.

"I love you, Sammy."

* * *

**I literally just watched "In My Time of Dying" today. That's where that came from. (I can't write anything w/o it having some kind of humor.)**

**Idk if you've noticed but the new cover image is totally irrelevant to the story but it's now a confused Kevin Tran. Yay for celebrating the cute dead people. **


	9. Travel

.

**Impavid**

_fearless: undaunted_

* * *

**This is a one-shot based on a prompt from sapphireswimming's _Apricity_. Look up that story for more information.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**I couldn't resist this opportunity.  
This one's a *bit* different. ;)  
I'm coughing up little bits of blood. That can't be good.**

* * *

**Travel**

_"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."  
-H. Jackson Brown Jr._

* * *

_Some families go on normal vacations. Such as to the beach, or to some popular city in some popular country. Or maybe they just stay at home and have fun there. But for the Fenton family: Vacations are like the Griswold family vacation on steroids. _

_Here's what happened on a select few of the trips. _

* * *

"No! I refuse! You cannot make me do this, Mom!"

"Yes, I can and I will, now come on out here. You're embarrassing us!"

_Every family likes to take their family photos when they're around beautiful scenery, and the Fentons were no exception. However, Danny never thought of the summits of the Appalachian mountains as beautiful._

Danny trudged into the living room of the Fentons' rented cabin. He wore three layers of clothes, plus a pair of long underwear. A huge, puffy jacket made his upper body look like it was five times bigger than it really was, and his face was obscured by a furry lined hood that made his nose tickle. Unfortunately, he could not reach his own nose because his jacket didn't allow him to bring his hands above his shoulders.

While Danny was miserable in his...ensemble...the rest of the family was no better. Jack was no longer walking. He was reduced to waddle everywhere, and the snow boots he had on his feet didn't make it easy to do even that. Jazz, practical as ever, wore a hat instead of a hood in order to save herself from the monster that is her hair. Even so, Danny liked to take the toboggan off, and watch her hair frizz up while she made a face similar to that of the "Grumpy Cat".

They made their way out to the snow-covered rest area to take their pictures, flamboyant Maddie leading the way. Jazz behind her, Jack behind Jazz, and Danny heading up the rear. The thirteen year-old-was a sight for sore eyes, his hair was all in a tussle and his nose was beet red giving him the appearance of a black-haired Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. The surroundings seemed appropriate.

As everyone was too busy worrying about whether they were going to survive this Fenton Family Vacation, no one saw young Danny Fenton slip and slide all the way down the adjoining ski slopes, unable to yell because his furry hood would not keep itself out his mouth.

* * *

_Yes, the Fentons can be...unaware at times, but while they are kind of naïve, they still have their ridiculous obsession with ghosts to contend with._

* * *

Many a supernatural conventions had the Fentons attended, even with their now half-ghost son and human daughter in tow. Traveling across the country one year, they found themselves at a convention of sorts, but this one...for a series of books. It apparently had a small fanbase as there were not many people there, but the name of the convention had the word supernatural in it, so Jack and Maddie were driven towards it.

It took place in a local hotel, the hotel supposedly haunted.

"How appropriate!" Maddie squealed once they retrieved their tickets and were finding a parking spot.

"What joy," fifteen-year-old Danny muttered, leaning back in his seat, pouting.

Jazz placed a loving a hand on his shoulder. "It'll be fun, Danny. We get to see what fans of these 'Supernatural' books do!"

"What are they even about?" Danny asked, taking the book out of Jazz's hand.

"Demons and stuff. Right up your alley?" Jazz says hopefully, trying to grab some of Danny's attention.

"No, Jazz. Ghosts are right up my alley, not beings from hell and angels," Danny flips the book over to read the summary. "_Along a lonely California highway, a mysterious Woman in White lures men to their deaths...a terrifying phenomenon that may be Sam and Dean's first clue to their father's whereabouts._" Danny read. He looked at Jazz, deadpanning. "These are stupid, Jazz. Why?"

His eyes suddenly widen and Jazz asks what's wrong. "Nothing, Oh jeez, nothing. Look at that!" Danny points to something out the window of the GAV and stares at it.

"There's nothing there, Danny."

"Nothing there?! _Nothing there?! _Jazz you'd have to be stupid not to see it right _there_!" Danny pointed with more fervor, and ordered his parents to stop. Jazz whipped around, afraid of Youngblood or some other ghost, but she saw nothing of the sort.

"What is it, Danny-boy?" Jack said, craning his neck to see what his son is going on about. Danny is almost drooling all over his sister's lap.

"That car! Look at it, a seventy-six Chevy Impala. Now that...that I would die for. Oh man, whoever owns that car must be really happy with it! And look at the body! It's in great shape, and the wheels and tread...! I could go on for hours!"

And go on for hours he did.

* * *

_If we go back even as far as when Jazz was barely a toddler, we can see that the Fenton parents traveled wherever and whenever they could. And they still had ghosts on the mind._

* * *

"The map is upside down, honey," Maddie warned Jack in the passengers seat of the car. Jazz was in the back in her car seat, contently separating her goldfish by color.

"Oh sorry," Jack mumbled then smiled at his wife. He patted her enlarged belly. "He'll be adorable. Just like you!" They nuzzled their noses.

Jazz groaned. "Watch the road, Mom!"

"Right! Thanks, Jazz."

"Now how far away from Estes are we?"

* * *

**That last one you need a little backstory for: Estes Park, Colorado is the name of the town where the Stanley Hotel lays, which is the "haunted" hotel where Stephen King stayed and was inspired to write The Shining. I wanna go, as the Shining is one of my favorite books. **

**(The last one is also very short. D:)**

**The middle one was the one I was excited for. I had to get that in there somehow, so now Danny likes space, drawing, and cars! Yay for me. (Not really.)**


	10. Fall

**Impavid**

_fearless; undaunted_

* * *

**I've been writing on a Supernatural one shot album for weeks now and I still haven't posted it. Would you guys wanna read angsty fanfiction of that magnitude from me? Wait, you get that here. Nevermind.**

**But seriously though. What about it? ;)**

**Typed this out on my phone so sorry about pesky spelling errors. **

**You guys should totes follow me on Tumblr. (oh-dat-wormstache) If I'm good at one thing it's being a fangirl.**

_It gets a_ _bit dark. If that's not your style...then either don't read or deny that I ever warned you._

* * *

_**Fall**_

**_This is very different from the sentence prompt. I honestly apologize for that. This popped into my head. _**

* * *

She had read it in a book. Yes she had a read a book, but if you asked her about it she would deny it until the day she died. No, Paulina Sanchez can't be known as the girl who had read some sappy book about some sappy children in a boarding school where they thought they were living a hell-life. Paulina didn't want her friends' last thoughts about her to be about her having feelings beyond "Hey! My hair dryer just burned out!" or "OMG! Mac discontinued my favorite color of eye shadow! I can like, never show my face in public again!".

The book was by some guy with a color for a last name. Orange? Who cares. The real beef was in the pages.

It was about some girl who had a name Paulina would die for: Alaska. If, of course, her own name wasn't so fabulous. She and the main character of the book, Pudge, were kind of in love, but the writer had to add drama, so as always, they would not admit it. But in the end, Alaska ended up taking her own life by driving directly into a police cruiser. And on the anniversary of her mother's death! A main theme was people's last words, and and there was this big question that was inspired by a famous person's last words ("How will I ever get out of this damn labyrinth?" or something to that effect). "What is the quickest way out the labryinth?"

Turns out Alaska had it all figured out. Straight and fast. It caused the least pain: to the victim of course.

Hence the reason Paulina was on the top of her school, staring down into the foggy oblivion. It was a cold day, but she wore no jacket. She wouldn't need it really.

She shivered as she stepped back from the edge for the third time in three minutes. These kinds of thoughts were hard to handle, especially with a simple mind such as Paulina's. To pass the time until she finally decided to do it, she sang under her breath a song that was frightfully appropriate for her situation.

"_If I die young, bury me in satin, lay me down on bed of roses_...actually I really don't want to be buried in satin," she glanced to the overcast sky, cheeks wet. "Hey God, if you're listening, don't let my family bury me in silk or anything. Put that pink dress that I really like on me. At least grave robbers will think I looked beautiful..." She trailed off, gaze returning to her feet. "...even though no one else does."

In reality, she was very wrong, but in some ways right. Her family loved her and cared for her, but Paulina was shallow and did not care. All she cared about was the public eye, the only part of her anyone would ever see.

Dash. He was the one. He had rejected her. When she finally worked up the nerve to ask him if he wanted to make their relationship a bit more official, he declined. And without a lick of regret or consideration of Paulina's feelings.

"_Who would want to have sex with you, Sanchez? You're a dirty whore; an easy, disgusting slut. You probably have about a billion STD's anyway. I prefer my girls a bit...cleaner_."

Paulina's brow crinkled as she thought of the memory once more. She knew she had no STD's! How could she? She was a virgin for God's sake. A virgin.

"A lowly virgin..." she mumbled. "A nothing. A Soc who hasn't even had sex! And in senior year? An embarrassment!" She stepped to the edge of the building again, her long brown hair billowing in the wind.

"I had been planning on doing this for a while now..." She said, and produced a pair of scissors from her pants pocket and held them tightly. She wouldn't dare cut herself. She was above that. But she would grip her hair, the majority of the voluminous locks on the outside and bring the blade up to slice through them, no tears falling from her eyes. She silently thanked a higher being that the blade was sharp enough to cut through her thick hair.

She held the brown mass in her hand, a smug smile on her face. She held the locks over the edge of the building and released them, watching the hair until she could no longer, her visibility in the fog ending.

She held her remaining hair, the longest choppy strands reaching just past her shoulders.

It was quite metaphorical, actually. The once-beloved hair symbolized Paulina letting go of all of her worries. She couldn't care less about how people felt about her anymore. She knew nobody would miss her, so why not?

"And the only person I ever truly loved doesn't even know I exist..." She laughed aloud. This fact was dreadfully true. At least from her perspective.

Danny Phantom. Ahh, Danny Phantom. She loved him so much. And he never paid any attention to her. Never even acknowledged her existence.

What's a girl to do when the love of her life doesn't know she exists? Remove herself from existence.

"Hey..." Phantom mumbled from behind her. "I do know you exist," Paulina whipped around and was met with Phantom's sad eyes, his light feet not quite touching the ground as always. His white hair laid shadows across his face, but he met Paulina's now wet eyes with a fierce determination. Said girl didn't run to him, didn't say anything or do anything.

"Otherwise, I would never save you or anything," Phantom continued, chuckling a little as an afterthought.

"But you...no," Paulina cut herself off. Phantom's eyes became aware of her feet slowly moving toward the edge. "I don't have to justify myself to you. You're a ghost. You don't have feelings. What do you care?" she turned back around to face oblivion.

Phantom floated a bit closer to Paulina. "Let me guess...you think that I, being a ghost, shouldn't care anything about humans?" he frowned, one dark eyebrow arched high.

"Normal ghosts don't. And shouldn't."

"But am I normal ghost?" Phantom questioned, not missing a beat. Paulina hesitated. She couldn't argue with that. Phantom was different. He had some sort of humanistic morality. He saved people. He helped them as best he could.

"No..." Paulina turned to face a smiling Phantom again.

"So don't be a normal human. Most people in your situation would have jumped off that building by now," Phantom said, motioning to the edge with a gloved hand.

"Normal humans don't have conversations with ghosts like this." Phantom merely grinned in response. "But clearly there's something you don't know about me," Paulina's eyes rose from the ground to meet Phantom's. "I'm not different."

Her feet slipped off the edge, and Phantom zipped over the edge with her. He cradled her in in his cold embrace, her shaky breath fogging up in his face.

He smiled. "You're not getting away that easily," she laughed, a cold unfeeling laugh. "And Paulina? I think you're beautiful."

* * *

**SHIP IT LIKE FED EX MY FRIENDS. (Yeah no. DxS ftw)**

**I don't own any of the following:**

**"Looking for Alaska" the book mentioned by the genius John Green. **

**Or the song "If I Die Young" by The Band Perry. (I actually hate country. But that's a good song.)**


	11. Card

**Impavid**

_fearless; undaunted_

* * *

**This is a one-shot based on a prompt from sapphireswimming's _Apricity_. Look that story up for more information. **

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**This is terrible and I know it. In other news: I have four followers on my Tumblr, and it seems slightly pathetic that I'm happy about that. AND! There's almost thirty followers on Two Men.**

**And hey! If you like Supernatural, I'm about to publish a one-shot series...the name is still undecided, but I'm thinking of one.  
The first one-shot is part one of a little three part miniseries called "Everything's Eventual". It's about John and Mary Winchester.**

**In the words of Jared Padalecki, "Tune in for tragedy!"**

* * *

**Card**

* * *

"Danny!"

"What, Jazz?"

"Get the mail for me? Mom said we had to have it in before they got back from the store."

"Can't you get it?"

"I'm busy. Stop being so whiney and get it."

"Ugh!" Danny groaned as he rose from his intensely inviting bed. He had been sleeping (resting from a full Friday night of ghost fighting) when Jazz decided to call upon him. And to get the mail of all things. Did she not realize that he was aching all the way down to his bones and that he'd been drained of all his energy hours ago?

Oh right. Of course she didn't. She didn't even know Danny was Phantom.

So, Danny found himself complying to Jazz's requests, albeit not happily.

He sluggishly dragged himself down the stairs and to the door, his bare feet never leaving the floor and making atrocious squeaking sounds. He ran a hand through his eternally messy hair and use the free one to slam his hand upon the door and throw it open, praying that that loud noise wasn't the knob leaving a hole in the wall.

Danny rubbed his eyes as he stepped down onto the sparse front porch. The mail was in its usual spot: the porch steps. He bent down to retrieve the newspaper and few envelopes. There was a magazine, titled _Ecto-Weekly_. The tag line read "Your weekly news on all things green, slimy, and disgusting!". Conveniently, they were doing a long-running piece on Phantom, trying to figure out his ghostly obsession, and a picture of said ghost adorned the cover.

"Man," Danny mumbled. "They didn't get my good side." He trudged back up the steps, finally noticing the small bite in the air. With a shiver, he almost shut the door, but noticed something flapping in the wind that accompanied the chill.

"What?" Danny muttered. He reached back behind the door, and pulled a piece of construction paper out. It was slightly damp, but still readable.

Written in green and black crayon were two simple words: Thank You. A flower was drawn in the same colors, with black outlined petals and little green "DP"s in the middle.

A child had clearly written this, the writing was hard to read, the dark not helping in the least.

Danny stood outside, holding the paper in his hands for at least five minutes before the cold got to him.

Danny smiled and walked back inside, leaving the mail that was not addressed to him on the living room table. He went back to his room, and laid on his bed, grinning.

After laying there for a few minutes, he sat up, turned the hand still holding the note intangible and phased it through the wall behind his headboard.

Danny grinned. His eyes slid shut as he pulled his bed blankets up to his neck.

"You're welcome, kid."


End file.
